


The Apology

by shirokuro_sumi



Series: Series: Mirui [1]
Category: Mabinogi (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Emotional Dumbass, M/M, Oral Sex, g21 spoilers, ohman the secondhand embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22332445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirokuro_sumi/pseuds/shirokuro_sumi
Summary: g21 alternate ending, so spoilers.'Twas very emotional, okay?
Relationships: Torvish | Talvish (Mabinogi)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Series: Mirui [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607524
Kudos: 5





	The Apology

...Huh?

“...and I wished to thank you for that. For crossing the gulfs of time and space to stand before me…” 

This… this sounds like… 

“So… goodbye.”

_No!_

A gust of wind, a blur of feathers.

Swallowing my hand as I reach in, and—!

“Uwaa!” 

_Thud._

“Hm? Mirui!”

Tasting blood and stone, I’m pleasantly surprised that he stopped. I didn’t think he would, even if I had no backup plan for if he hadn’t.

Though, to be fair, nothing of this day had been exactly planned out, either.

Strong hands pull me upright by my shoulders, sitting me down with ease. Haloed by afternoon glare, the figure there sighs as he looks me over, his face in an unmistakable sternness as he dusts me off very professional-like, very senior-to-junior-like, very ‘wow already causing trouble again aren’t you’-like.

Instantly ticking me off. 

“I said my thanks and farewells; was it not obvious that I was going to—?”

“Talvish.”

I look up to his exasperated face, my fingers still twisted about the end of his skirt. My lip stings where his attempted takeoff had yanked me along for gravity to slam me into the floor of Avalon Temple, but the faint taste of iron seems to fit my words as I say: “You’re… I’m not letting you go anywhere… until you say… you’re sorry.”

“…Eh?”

“You didn’t. Say. Sorry,” I say with increasing volume, brushing him off as I stumble to my feet. “Even though you fucking. Stabbed me. In. The. _Back_.”

Funny how not even five minutes ago we were having a heart-to-heart about how he was appreciating me for my existence or something. The calm confidence I’m used to getting from him seems to sprout cracks before my eyes, which is odd but satisfying to watch at the same time. Sheepishness spreads across his handsome features, which for some reason just irritates me even more as he tries: “Well, I—”

“You said a lot of other things. Very pretty things, lovely speech, really—”

“Er, thank you…”

“—but you _never actually apologized_ for the entire fiasco you put me through.”

Again, that goddamned demure look of concession. “You’re right, I really am sor—”

“ _Nope_ , not going to take it,” I say hotly, surprised at how aggravation I had pent up. “Recruiting me into the Alban Knights only to set the Apostles and the Prophets and the gods on me… and on top of that, considering to sacrifice me into your grand plan to reset Erinn? Not even a _word_ to me about that during your monologue?! Or did you think just thanking me for my service like a common soldier would be enough before you disappeared into the great blue yonder?”

“Wait, calm down, it wasn’t my inten—”

“To _hell_ with your intentions, I’ve been jerked around by them for the last year and I’ve had it!” I yell. “I want something for myself, and for once I’m going to seize it, you hear me?”

Uncharacteristic bewilderment crosses his face, settling into a soft nod that makes his wavy hair glitter in the late afternoon sunlight. “If… if it’s within my power, I suppose I do owe you at least a favor for… for everything.” 

“Good.”

And then, before I could stop myself: “Let me stab you then.”

“…”

“…”

“…I suppose that would be fair, but Altam took the Sword and, er, I don’t think I could be more than scratched with anything… less… than…”

I’m staring at him the entire time, all the way up until he glances back at me and his words start to trail. My visage is mirrored in his eyes as they visibly widen, facing away abruptly with a hand over his face. So I _know_ for a fact that my cheeks are glowing as red as his as I look at his half-turned back, trying my best not to die of embarrassment. 

“Y-You don’t mean to say…?” he says weakly.

By the gods, he’s cuter than I thought he’d be when he blushes. There’s not enough cp in the world to make this easier, so unfair. “D-Don’t think I’m so dumb as to n-not recognize f-flirting when I see it,” I stutter.

“Well, you never seemed to respond, so I thought…”

“M-Maybe if you didn’t act so suspiciously half the time I’d have fallen for you sooner,” I blurt out. And proceed to feel my facial temperature jump about ten degrees. 

“Did I really seem that suspicious to you?”

“Well, the term ‘traitor’ did get tossed around a couple times, and it felt odd to be… erm, so blatantly flattered?”

Just what is this conversation, I wonder to myself as I count cracks in the white stone floor. Socializing rank F and no ap training option - what was I thinking, trying something like this? Eventually I hear him break the silence with: “I… I apologize for having made you feel uneasy.”

“I-It’s fine, turns out you weren’t playing for the Prophets, you just needed a good twenty minutes of chain slash spam…”

“…”

“Wh— You know what I mean, don’t look at me like that!”

“How am I looking at you, exactly?”

“You smiled! You definitely smiled there for a bit! Don’t tell me… you actually enjoyed that?!”

“What?”

“Is that why you didn’t apologize? You thought that was _fun_?”

“By chance, have you been reading inappropriate romance novels lately?”

“S-Shut up, _you’re_ an inappropriate romance novel!”

Dear gods, Lymilark or Hymerark or Noah’s Ark, someone stop me from babbling. If this is a dream then I wish he’d punch me, it’s such a messed up confession that given a chance I’d pay to smash the reset button. Add chocolates, maybe. Candlelight and confidence, suave poetry, a fancy suit and a rose between my teeth - anything even slightly amorous in nature, slightly less awkward!

And yet, as his warm hand cups my face, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that small voice telling me that there’s no other way I’d rather have this moment. His thumb brushes the cut on my quivering lip, and there is a soft glitter of pain in his eyes as he gently wipes the blood off with a sleeve. In late afternoon, the clear sky over Avalon is swiped with clouds tinged with early dusk, golds and reds and blues. The soft jingle of metal rings is reminiscent of a wind chime, ringing with his slightest movements. A soothing sound, a calming sound.

“…I didn’t apologize because I thought you would reject it.”

His voice was only slightly more than a whisper, and yet it seemed loud against the ambience. 

“I wouldn’t have known how to bear it if the last I had from you was your hatred,” he says softly. “Certainly, I’ve caused enough harm that I would deserve it. Yes, I knew this - I _know_ this - and yet I couldn’t help but cower from the responsibility. I thought, if I could just half-heart it with the pleasantries, then we could at least part cordially, but…” 

He looks down to where my hand is still frozen around the hem of his skirt. “That really was reckless of you. What if I didn’t stop?”

“No idea,” I say honestly. “Would you really have kept flying with me dangling behind you like a kite tail?”

“I was planning to leave fast enough to avoid any potential projectiles, so I might have actually gone a fair distance, yes.”

“I didn’t even get dragged five feet, though?”

“From there to here is easily fifteen.”

“W-Well, does it really matter?” I sigh dismissively. “You stopped, so it’s moot to complain now.”

“…I did, didn’t I? I wonder why.”

The wind is blowing and leaves are rustling, and yet I could hear the sound of my heart as if it’s beating my eardrums like a timpani. Even if he’s hovering above me by a good head or so, I wonder if it’s audible to Talvish - we’re standing close enough for me to legitimately wonder. 

“S-So… so you could apologize, o-obviously,” I try to say angrily. Obviously failing. That he doesn’t answer but for increased color in his cheeks makes me feel even worse, like a fever on volcano mode, immediately regretting my choice of words and silently wishing for that divine hand to knock me senseless and save me from this self-instigated torture. 

“Have you…” I hear him say weakly, “actually… done _that_ before?”

“Honestly, I’m not much for it. I’m more of a bottom but I didn’t want to say something like ‘hey please stab me again’, you know?”

“…”

Aton Cimeni, if you’re listening, a lightning bolt would be nice about now.

“I… er…”

His eyes are downcast as he fishes for words, which shine a vivid blue when up against so much scarlet in his cheeks. “If… if you’re alright with it… would you consider…?”

“Would I consider what?” I ask weakly, scared as hell for what he might come up with.

“If I could oblige with my mouth instead?”

Am I more embarrassed that he didn’t use the B-word or that I was honestly hoping that he’d use the B-word? Even if thinking requires more brain cells than I have to spare at the moment, I still try for something more than a really thirsty stare back, and manage to string together enough words to blurt out: “Wait, you want to give me a blowjob?”

Under Talvish’s stare, I think I feel my soul leaving my body and I hope Nao bans me from speaking on my next rebirth. Even if I become extremely interested in the stones underfoot, his voice gives away the flush in his face as I hear him say: “Y-Yes? Of course, if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I suppose… I suppose I could let you—”

“ _No_. I mean, I mean yes! Wait, no, _no_ I’m not _un_ comfor… well, maybe a little, but definitely no, nope, I’m not, I’m totally game for—”

“Mirui, please calm down, I can’t understand you properly.”

I feel very small and very stupid as I forcefully clap my hands over my mouth. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I scream at myself. Think calm thoughts. Trees and rivers and oceans and… and mountains and… geysers… 

Oh, who am I kidding. Not when he’s in front of me like this. Saying things like this.

“I’d love one,” I squeak through my fingers.

A poof, and his feet touch ground, his divine form swapped for a more earthly one. Not even armor, just burgundy and white, simple lengths of fabric with small fluffy wings poking out of his waist. Even without greaves or a floating ability he’s taller by a good amount, which makes it that much more impressive as he dips down to one knee before me. 

“Would you prefer it standing, or lying down, or…?

“Wait, right here?!”

“I can guarantee nobody would disturb us,” he says. “Unless you have a better place in mind?”

“B-But this is your temple for Aton Cimeni, isn’t it? Isn’t it kinda… uh, a bit of a sacrilege to do it here?”

“Perhaps the oracles thought this place sacred, but my temple was on the battlefield,” he shrugs. “Raised from the earth, the Sanctum was supposed to be a fortress. A stronghold, a place of protection. That it became a temple instead spoke much of how well they held this land…”

He smiles gently before turning to me. “But no, I assure you that no divine retribution will come from our actions here,” he says.

“Well, if you’re okay with it, this place is as good as any, I suppose…”

The oddness of being out in the open - even if literally aeons from anything as we at least get off the ruins and into the grass alongside - is nerve-wracking, to say the least. I fumble my belt like it’d been suddenly childproofed, still not really believing that this is happening, that at any time I’m going to wake up beside my annoying alarm clock with a serious case of morning wood, but otherwise unscathed. 

_Would that be better or worse than if this is real?_

“Do you need help with that?”

I swallow nervously, the questions causing a backup in my brain. “If you could pinch me really hard, that would be nice.”

“Pinch you? Why?”

“I heard somewhere that if you get pinched in a dream, you’d wake up instantly.”

“This isn’t a dream, though? At least…”

_Is my stupidity contagious?_ I wonder as I watch Talvish take a fingerful of his own cheek and tug hard enough for the red to linger after letting go. His look is unreadable as he turns to me and nods. “I confirm this isn’t a dream,” he says.

“O-Okay?”

“Thank the gods,” he adds. “I would have woken up very disappointed.”

“Wait, wh—?”

I don’t even get the chance to finish before he steps forward - only a single step away, when did that happen? - and suddenly I realize this is closer than I’ve ever had him and we’re seriously alone just the two of us and _aaaaaaa_ this is really happening isn’t it oh dear gods me and my big mouth my stupid thirsty hormones why do you do these thi—

“It’s probably best that you lie down for this.”

That I don’t instantly swoon like one of Llywelyn’s court ladies could probably win an achievement for extraordinary effort. And while they’re at it, a medal for not tearing my pants off would also be appropriate, I think - though that has more to do more with having three belts and two buttons, rather than a sufficient amount of self-restraint. My fingers tremble as they undo them one by one, while being aware at an ultra-sensitive-aaa-so-embarrassing level of the blood rushing through my body, and how it feels against briefs exposed to the dusk-time air. 

All the while, he’s just standing there patiently, his hands unmoving at his sides. Aside from a brief stabbing desire for those hands to unclothe me as desperately as I want to unclothe him (cue internal screaming), I somehow manage to loosen my pants and sit, leaning up against a tree with no other problems. He kneels after me, gently pushing my knees apart - and that’s as far as I get before I turn away for fear of panicking at this turn of events.

Not that attempting to count clouds magically shuts off my other senses or anything. His hand is cool against my skin, teasingly sliding from my navel down south. A temperature nowhere near what I’d call ‘cold’, but I still shiver as he brushes the top of my shaft, ringing it between thumb and index. Despite my racing heart, it’s only halfway awake when the rest of his fingers wrap around and - “Mmph!” - tugs, gently, back and forth, back and… f-forth… and… 

Going into this, I had no idea what to expect. I had my, er, fantasies, of course… but even the most vivid of them feels bleached in comparison to the simple motions of his hand tugging, squeezing, stretching and releasing. On loop, so nothing special, and y-yet…

A trail of sweat runs down my neck and I shiver. S-Strange. The loss of autonomy, maybe. The sensation of someone I trust having their way with me.

He eventually releases me when I’m well and stiff, which contrasts weirdly with the flutteriness in my belly and the floatiness of my thinking capacity. Briefly, eye contact - made as quickly as I break it, blood rushing to my face as I bury it nose-deep in my elbows, the threat of a heart attack surely imminent if I dare watch him… to me…

“Should I start, or would you like me to wait until you calm down?”

“J-Just go ahead,” I mumble, the touch of his hands along my inner thigh making me twitchy.

“Try not to worry so much; relax and enjoy it.”

Easier said than done. The thought comes just in time for the difficulty level to spike as his fingers return and - _!!!_ \- a wave of heat passes over, his hot and heavy exhale making an instant firestorm of my nerves. With zero recovery time before his tongue brushes me, I fight the urge to instantly hose him even as he kisses, repeats the kisses, the licks, the stroking up and down my shaft. 

Rough tree bark digs into my back, its aeons-old limbs creaking as I struggle to stay still. Wind on my skin, sweat on my brow… even without sight I’m gasping for breath, blood pounding in my ears. From the tactile to the audible; heat and saliva, lips and a languid tongue - it didn’t matter, my imagination spins wildly with what stimuli it can get its hands on, spitting out images that make me wonder if actually watching would be any less embarrassing.

“ _Haa_ … S-stop teasing and,” I groan, “and, j-just get it… _hnnn_ … over with…”

I feel him sigh before I hear it, the air current eliciting a trembly response from my lower half. “This is an apology, not your morning usual,” he says, the sound waves from his throat way too close to my member to be anything but stimulating. “I mean to deliver it with my whole heart, and so I ask for your patience in getting there.”

“That’s f-fine and all, but… Wait, how do you know I rub myself out every mo—?”

I’m not proud of the sound I make as he suddenly wraps his mouth around the tip and sucks on it _really_ , really hard. Smaller moans bubble up in between my panting as he slurps and kisses his way up and down, embarrassingly increasing in volume as if proportional to how much throat I’m getting. The small elbow pocket I’d made for my face is starting to get uncomfortably hot, the tiny bits of leaf and branch irritating, the grass underneath me seemingly pricklier than I remember. Even if it isn’t, I don’t think I’d have been able to help myself as my hips fidget restlessly, as if desperate to be… swallowed whole, to be… totally smothered in… his… a…affections…

“T-Talvish…”

“Mm?”

The sound, his voice, his vocal cords humming against my hard-on while I’m so deep in them is…!

“ _H-haaa_ … I’m… Wait, get off, I’m… I’m… _aah_ …”

I try to shove him off with a foot but am interrupted with a split-second tangent thought that a shoeprint on his beautiful face would be really uncouth. A spark of hope as he moves… _but in the wrong direction_ , so I realize just as his lips are pressing up against my balls, like the last straw that breaks the strained floodgates wide open.

“ _…!_ ”

Flashes, then. Heat flowing, knees shaking, relief and not-relief intermingling, taking a million forms: a guttural sigh, a gasp, exertion rolling off skin like invisible fog and yet two racing breaths, intertwined; so hard to think, much less think straight, but… for sure, it felt… it feels…!

I jump with the sudden realization of proximity, two eyes of topaz-blue looking in my direction. Abrupt darkness as the face they are set in stops mere inches from mine, his shoulders to the level of my shoulders, his torso suspended over mine, the sensation of fabric over my exposed waist. If he’d planted his hand any further down the tree trunk, he’d be touching my head, we are just that close.

His lips, I notice, are still damp.

Close enough to kiss.

They glimmer slightly as he licks them, as if aware of my attention. “Was that enough to win your forgiveness?” he whispers.  


Heart, a-flutter. Brain, mush. 

_I…_

By the grace of Aton Cimeni, such _temptation_.

_I want…!_

And with it, sobriety - slamming into me like a speeding Sylvan, screaming at that briefest, that tiniest of thoughts that supposed, just a bit, that I could very well just… say no. The one ‘no’ I _can’t_ say, it reminds me, given everything else: ‘no’ to that urge to stretch my neck out over that centimeter of distance and kiss him, 

‘no’ to wrapping him in my arms and refusing to let him go, 

‘no’ to pouring out all these bottled up urges, to finally just tell him outright what feelings have haunted me these past few weeks. Just,

a loud

resounding

_refusal_

to let myself…

to let myself… and him… 

I reach for the image anyway. Two hands, entwined.

_You can’t!_

Breaking into pieces before my mind’s eye.

_It’s impossible!_

A habitual unworthiness.

_You know better than this!_

And yet, and yet, _and yet_ , I—!

“Mirui?”

That hand, again, but in real life. Though it might as well be a snake, what with how quickly I recoil from it. With my arm up between us I wonder, was the night always so cold? The grass so rough? My thoughts so disorganized?

“I…” I gasp, “I’m sorry, I… it wasn’t… I probably…”

“Mirui, what’s wrong?”

The concern in his voice… So sweet, that I almost choke on its unfamiliarity. Its meaning. 

Such kindness.

Of which I… 

“I’m… I’m fine, it’s just…”

A shudder, then: “I knew I should have just… let you fly away after all.”

Rain? No, the sky is clear still, despite how I can feel water running down my cheeks. Drop after drop rolling down my neck, as the sensation of a knife being driven in between my ribs slowly intensifies, razor-sharp words emerging from suppressed depths of emotion. From being pleasured, instantly into guilt, their contrast smashing a carefully-managed lid into smithereens.

“Just, it was… well, a moment’s weakness, I guess, since it… it really did hurt to think… this would end… like the end of a long, long dream.”

Raw emotions, stinging as they slide from my lips. 

“To imagine, if I woke up tomorrow and… you wouldn’t be there anymore… I would have… Back there, I would have willingly died for you, so you know. And yet I didn’t.”

Hurting. So badly.

“All I… all I wanted was… to be loved by you… So much that I couldn’t let myself die until then, even for your sake. That… that I asked for this, and actually got it… I’m happy. I’m so happy, you don’t even know.”

Such loathsome self-centeredness.

“But it’s too much happiness,” I sob. “Too much that I don’t deserve. A weak and clumsy Milletian, and the First Sword… How to even compare? Stupid me, I dreamed anyway… to be there at your side… To claim you as mine, and be claimed as yours… words to which I… I even wished that I _did_ let myself die for you, it hurt so much to… to be hopeful.”

No wonder I couldn’t say them. 

“So… I know I only asked for… for what you’ve already given, but…” 

Tears prickle as I stare up at his lovely face, light scattering across his form as pinpricks of fading sun. “I’m lonely and selfish, so no, it wasn’t enough,” I say hoarsely. “It was so much better than I had ever imagined and yet I need… I need it to stop. Please, I need you to stop me, Talvish. Hurt me or discard me, leave me crying or leave me dead; I don’t care how, just… just…”

A shaky inhale. A pleading gaze upwards, even if I can’t see him clearly through the tears.

“I’m too weak to pull away from you, so if you’re going to leave, please… don’t be such a nice guy for once, and reject me properly!”

The sound of trees rustling, of clouds moving across the great expanse of sky. Stars, starting to shine, in the close of the day.

“…Do I have a choice in the matter?”

“Um, well… I, I suppose you could just call the debt repaid and leave, since technically I did only ask for, uh…”

“No, no. Can I…?”

A breath in the wind. His hand quivering as it slides, soft and warm, under my chin.

“Can I still, after everything… Can I really claim you as mine, and be claimed as yours?”

“…Huh?”

The unpleasant cold of wind on saline is short-lived as Talvish yanks me off the ground, sitting me across his lap and hugging me so tight my shoulders threaten dislocation. “T-Talvish!” I exclaim. “Wait, what are you—?”

“I love you, Mirui.”

With his face buried in my neck, the words come out slightly muffled but I’m… relatively sure I didn’t mishear. 

Still.

“Talvish, please don’t make this harder on me, it’s already—”

“Did you ever think through those hundreds of futures and consider that, maybe, I would like to be selfish, too?”

His arms return some breathing room to me but only barely; a mere hair’s width sits between us as he stares at me with our noses almost touching, our brows pressed into the other’s, his large hands cupping either side of my face. Is… is that the sound of my heart thumping wildly, or is it his?

“Mirui the Milletian, soul from another star,” he says softly, “Unbound to this world and yet always dragged into its troublesome fate… I want to hear you say it.”

“Say…?”

“A claim to your happiness. Say it, and I will be yours.”

Strain, on my heart, making my teeth clench and my eyes sting as I ask: “And… and if I don’t? If I know for sure that this won’t work out for either of us?”

“‘For sure’?”

I flinch as he laughs, a loud and surprisingly youthful sound that I realize I hadn’t actually heard up until now. “Who is ever sure about the future?” he grins. “Were you not the one who taught me that we ourselves may not always know best? That pain is obscuring, and self-doubt even more so? That, if we make mistakes, our loved ones will come to right our paths again if we could just bring ourselves to let them?”

A smile, then a soundless exhale escapes him as he slowly guides my head into his chest. His cheek on my forehead is heavy with pressure and body heat, soothing as he nuzzles me slowly, his hand caressing the crook of my neck, the soft behind my ear. Held close with such tenderness, it feels so warm. So assuring. So nice. 

If I… if I could just stay like this forever…

“Above all the things you’ve done for me, all the things I am grateful to you for… thank you for keeping yourself alive,” he whispers. “Please, don’t ever regret that decision.”

My heart is silent, completely without words for the feelings that bubble up and flood my entire body. For once the misgivings are out of sight, their whispers drowned out by the sound of his heart in my ears, their claws out of reach while I’m in his arms. I’d… I thought I already knew how it felt to be infatuated with him, but this… 

“Talvish…”

“Hm?”

It feels odd to hug him. To wrap my arms around his middle, hands following the curve of his back, pressing my face into his clothes - purposefully, of my own decision, pulling him closer to me. Not even asking permission before making us even more vulnerable to the another. Saying, without actually saying, but conveying nonetheless.

But, just in case.

“…I love you, too.”

And I kiss him. Shyly, awkwardly, with eyes squeezed tightly shut, my hands digging into his shoulders and shaking with the effort to defy gravity. His lips are surprisingly soft, pillowy even when he pushes back with a kiss of his own. So strange, kisses are, so simple and yet so intoxicating - so I think hazily, as we pull apart only to predictably come back together, like two dancers eager to meet on the floor.

And certainly it feels like such physical exertion - this hastening heartbeat, this rapidity of breath. We lean into each other and suddenly I couldn’t get enough of holding him, of being held by him, of his fingers running through my hair as we slowly sink further and further into one another. What nervousness I’d clung to disappears as if I’d gotten drunk on such intimacy, even if I taste nothing with my tongue in his mouth, nor with his in mine. The thought itself, and the feeling - skin on skin, to touch and be touched in a way that only lovers do - that is more than enough to send my spirits flying.

But the way I’m sitting on his lap, with my ankles in the grass and my thigh braced up against his waist, it is impossible to miss him getting… er, excited. Maybe a more sensible me would have expected it, would have been prepared to resist it; but that me is not the me of this moment. No, this me is soaked-to-the-core infatuated, and so the sensation of his erection against my leg surprises my love-addled brain with a bullet train, a missile, a rocket-like stab of arousal and suddenly my nerves are on fire so hot so thirsty wow just wow how overwhelming these urges are how insane how frenzied how hard and fast the thought comes roaring in that _I just want him to tear my clothes off and fuck me sensele_ —

_Slap._

“Mirui!”

… 

…I’m surprised at how hard I’d managed to - _oww_ \- hit myself. My face stings as I come to on my back, though it doesn’t hurt as much as returning to my senses in the cool grasses of Avalon. Tidbits of the firestorm flash like sparks before they slowly fizzle out, reminding me of what it was like. What I had, for that split second, wanted. Was shamelessly desperate to have.

Absolutely mortifying. Totally deserving of the slap, I decide.

A concerned face appears in the window of my view. “Are you alright?”

“W-We may have gone… a bit fast,” I manage to say, relieved that my words didn’t come out as something stupid and/or horny. For once.

“So you slapped yourself? You could have just told me to slow down.”

“This was faster.”

“I… suppose that’s true. Was it something I did?”

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault, I just… I just got overexcited, that’s all.”

“Would it help if I relieve you again before we continue?”

Two thoughts, then, simultaneously: 1) hang on he wants to continue? and 2) oh god he didn’t re-button my pants. To which the appropriate responses are, of course, to blush and pull over the edges of my shirt to cover such indecency. What an awkward first, to have been so thoroughly distracted that I didn’t realize I’d gotten hard again - and in Talvish’s lap, to boot!

“Oh. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable with that, we can put it off until you feel ready.”

“…Yeah, but we’re already both…” I say sheepishly, glancing up at him. Catching him turn as red as his clothes. 

“Ah,” he says, with one hand rubbing his face nervously. “So you did feel that.”

“Yeaaaaaah.”

“...”

“...”

…Seriously, what to say in this situation? 

“Well, I mean, it’s, it’s understandable; I couldn’t even abstain for a weekend, it’d drive me crazy, so… well, um, I don’t know how often you h-handle yourself, but… if you… need help… I’d… gladly…”

Why can’t I shut up sooner, I wail to myself, my face so hot that I’m certain that it’s going to melt off faster than butter on toast. I couldn’t even look Talvish in the eye as I said it, and so in the trailing silence a million thoughts are rushing through my head, dizzyingly fast and incoherent. Things he could say. Things I want him to say. Things I want him to do, and want d-done to m-me…!

“Mirui.”

“Y-Yes?!”

“So, are you saying… you’re alright with receiving?”

.

.

… 

_AaaaaaaaaAAAaaaAAaaaaAaaaaAaa—_

So loud. So dizzy.

Mouth opens, gasping.

“Y-Yes…”

He looks at me with the sort of face that suggests worry about my state of mind. “What was that?”

_Do I really have to say it again?!_

Inhale, slowly; there, that’s it. 

The flavors, briefly, of air and incredulity.

“Y-Yes,” I somehow manage to gasp.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you to—”

Why is it so hard for him to understand?! This thick-skulled, noodle-head knight, m-making me s-say… 

“I’d…”

Cold night in hot lungs.

“I’d be…”

Such nervousness, but still!

“I’d be really happy t-t-to h-have you f-fuck me!”

.

Wh—

Why.

Why does he look… so shocked?

“M-Mirui…”

_Oh no._

“Mirui, I meant… if you were alright with—”

My eyes follow his hand as he puts index finger to thumb, raising it to his lips.

“—with doing what I was for you earlier.”

“...”

...Well.

Alright then.

It was nice knowing you, Erinn.

Was a great couple of centuries, but I think that sound is the sound of my soul cracking and… a-ha-ha, there’s no going back now, now is there?

“Mirui? Mirui, are you alright?”

What in the world was I thinking? We weren’t even mutually interested in one another up until like ten minutes ago and I immediately assumed that he wanted to screw me?! Mirui, you thirsty idiot; thirsty and selfish and inconsiderate…

“Wait, calm down, I didn’t mean to answer like—”

Clunky, broken, lacking tact and sense and any proper form of self-preserving pride.

“...rui...”

Nothing but trouble to those around me, nothing but a pain to be with, making assumptions wildly off-center and dragging people into—

_“Mirui!”_

“Yes?!” I shout, taken completely off-guard by the volume. Torn away from my inner monologue by the pressure, the shift in atmosphere. By how, all of a sudden, his large hands are clamped 

on my shoulders, his unwavering 

gaze 

fixed, as if by magnetism,

to my eyes.

The world holds its breath. The thoughts cower before such certainty.

By the gods, he’s so cute when his face is that red.

“Clothes. Off.”

I don’t think about it. I don’t let myself think about it, even if I could acutely feel each fold of cloth, each brush of silk and cotton as I peel off layers one by one. Standing to get my pants off my ankles, I stumble slightly from the dizziness of doing so too quickly and am surprised at how fast I am caught. His sleeves tickle my chest, his coat buckles sting with cold against my back, even if I’d left my undershirt on. But no other clothing besides.

Three, maybe four layers. That’s all there is between us.

“Don’t turn around.”

“Y-Yes…”

My ears know the sound of fabric falling away. I wonder how pink they are flushing.

“Hold onto the tree… Both hands, a little higher… there, that’s good. Remember to relax.”

How do I relax, knowing what’s coming next? Or who, for that matter… though I’d no time to entertain the pun as a tiny lightbulb suddenly goes off in my head and I gasp, “W-Wait…”

“Hm?”

“In my… in my bags…”

Embarrassing as it is to admit, I know it by touch. Too many late nights reaching into soul stream inventories made me a natural, I suppose.

I hear the clatter of glass against cardboard as I shove it into his hands and _aaaaa_ I could die, it’s so embarrassing. “This is… tissues?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, but… inside… the box…”

If he had a response to the bottle contents, it isn’t an audible one. But cork squeaks when it’s pulled out of glass, and I’m bracing for what inevitably comes next as the back end of my shirt goes up, gets folded onto itself on my waist.

I grit my teeth as his finger slips inside me, grasping for thoughtlessness - which gets increasingly hard to maintain as he gently swipes my innards. Getting deeper than I could ever, frustratingly enough, though… nngh… not like it’s a… particularly bad thing… 

“Tell me if it hurts too much.”

“It shouldn’t? It’s just a finger.”

“At all,” he says, pulling out with a tiny _squelch_. 

And then before I could brace myself there is something stiff pressing into my backside, rubbing up against skin and nerves and my legs turn to jelly, my breath is squeezing past grit teeth. I try my best not to move but it’s impossible as his hands go on my waist, his weight shifts and he’s - _!_ \- slowly p-pushing into me, hot and h-harder and t-t-thicker than I… I, um…

Thoughts swim, as if their supports had melted into goo. Flesh stretching, distorting… Between the pain and pleasure I’m starting to get fuzzy-headed, and I t-try even just to focus on the sound of his h-heavy breathing but it… it just… makes it worse?

His voice, suddenly: “You’re…”

Displeasure? I try to squeak out that I’m doing my b-best, but—

“ _Ah_ … Mirui, you’re… so tight… and warm…” 

...I didn’t think I could get any harder, but I do. To the point where it’s almost unbearably painful, as I’m way too aware of how his respiration become more and more erotic as deeper and deeper in he goes. 

“Just a little more,” he grunts, when I think it’s impossible to take any more. “You’re… _Mm_ , it feels so good… that I keep… getting distracted…” 

He doesn't leave me time to react to his bedsheet talk, deciding suddenly to just shove the last segment inside. He’d been slow up until now, blunting my reactions, but the sudden thrust puts his entire mass into momentum and—

“!!!”

I clap a hand tightly over my mouth but too late, they probably heard that all the way at the Gate. Habitual panic slips in and I glance worryingly over my shoulder…

But we’re wordless as we stare at each other. I’m flexible enough to only catch a part of his face in brilliant scarlet, an impression of his clothes opened in the front and sculped muscles underneath. A sudden smile pulls my eyes back to his, kind but mischievous - reflected in his tone as he says: “Don’t worry, I’m the only one who can hear you.”

Which doesn’t make me feel better at all, of course. But it’s hard to resist as he bends over, his body heat on my back, his lips breathing against my ear and then my neck. His hips roll in languid circles and it’s hard to think with him moving against me, inside me ( _aaa!_ ). I’m not even aware of my hand leaving my mouth until I feel him embrace me, the friction of his fingers against my nipples making my throat shudder, and I find that I don’t care so much about hearing my own voice so long as he just… keeps… 

“Feeling better?”

I clutch his arms to my chest like a safety blanket. “Go before I change my mind,” I mutter. 

And then I’m unabashedly crying out as his grip tightens, his muscles flex, binding me to his pace as he thrusts (!), and thrusts (!!), and thrusts inside me. Short but forceful strokes, like phosphor matches against my nerves, the odd squelch reminding me that this isn’t even from that much friction but simply from him being so damn big. Breaths struggle out of me in gasps and wheezes, the occasional adjective, the occasional “yes right there oh god…” But when he buries his head in my neck and starts sucking at it, I swear the moans that come out of my mouth are hot enough to make the air dance.

“That… sound…”

“H-hah?”

His hand snakes upwards, his palm tucked up against my throat, his fingers fanned out along the side of my chin as he turns it to him and we kiss. Thirsty kisses with a lot of tongue, mutually twisting and twirling to the rhythm of his hips.  
“Your moans… are so… _mmm_ …”

“But… _ahh_ , I can’t… if you’re—”

“Exactly,” he pants, pressing his palm into my abdomen - right over where his tip was making a mess of my insides. “What sort of lead would I be not to let you go first?”

My muscles scream with lust as he firmly rolls his attention into their soft fibres. With his other arm still over my collarbone I couldn’t curl up very far, but the effort of holding in the embarrassment of coming first… Well, it probably wouldn’t have been affected anyway, as I could quickly feel it being submerged in the sensation radiating out of my lower half, completely outclassed in intensity. 

And yet.

“T-Talvish…”

“ _Hah_ … Yes?”

“Can… can you pinch me?”

“…Mirui.”

My breath seizes as he suddenly pushes away from me, forcing my back down while grabbing my hips. And then stars, stars and salt and fire as he drives hard against my insides, the stab of pleasure no less dulled by him repeating it faster, faster, faster yet! His hands are clamped about my pelvis, holding me fast as his entire length is shoved in and out of me, the _clap!_ of skin on skin hard enough that I feel sweat pepper my back with each lurch forward. Stoking that _feeling_ , as it razes everything down: every fragment of self-loathing, misgivings; every hesitance, regret. Just… just how am I still thinking, when… it feels… so… good…?

And then.

“—!”

It was only a spark by comparison to everything before, and yet I felt it. A slight change in his movements, a brief extra tightness in his grip; barely a sign and yet I… I couldn’t help but give in to it.

Surrendering to pleasure.

Spurting out of one end, being filled from the other.

Relief. Warmth.

Voices reduced to wordless moans, thoughts to a swirling bliss whose depth I do not know.

Knowing myself, I… I should have been upset at losing control, and yet… 

“So… stubborn…”

I’m too tired to resist as Talvish rests his chest on my back, hugging me tightly as he pulls us both down to the grass. Which is quite cold and uncomfortable, but I’d no energy left to do anything but just lay there, ears ringing, skin tingling. Feeling his legs tuck themselves in behind mine. His lungs heaving against the small of my back. His breath on my neck, his hand in my hair, softly stroking my scalp as he whispers: “Writing me off as a wet dream, hm?”

“W-well…”

“I’d happily agree to a second round if you’re still unconvinced.”

“What kind of battery are you running on to be able to do another so quickly?”

“Oh, is that a non-refusal?”

“ _Definitely_ a refusal,” I say, even if I’m too aware that he hadn’t pulled out yet and it’s still really hot and stiff as it occasionally nudges up against me. “M-Maybe I like this too… being held like this…”

“Then I’ll hold you as long as you want.”

“…That was easy.”

“It wouldn’t be kind of me to force it if you didn’t want to.”

“You seemed really into it, though?”

“Should I not have been?”

“ _And_ you’ve still got a raging hard-on stuck in my rear.”

“Ah. Is that uncomfortable?”

“W-Well, no, but…”

“Then let me be spoiled, and keep you close for awhile.”

We’d calmed down enough that our respirations had lost their sound, the background replaced by the rustle of night wind on foliage, the whistle of breezes through broken stone. If I strain my ears, I could maybe even hear our blood flow through our veins, our hearts behind their fragile cages. 

In such a quiet corner of the world, it's slightly frightening to break the peace with my voice as I gather the words in my head, forming them with a rattle in my breath, a sigh trailing off the end: “Talvish, are you still going to leave?”

“…Yes. For a while.”

“Why?”

“I can’t risk staying put, especially in the aftermath of my actions,” he sighs. “As you’ve reminded me, I am Erinn’s guardian. I will protect this world in accordance with the will of Aton Cimeni - but it is my role, and my role alone. That I scorned this role to try and correct the faith of the people, threatened their safety in doing so… I faltered once. I won’t do so again.”

So soon. Too soon. “No, please, Talvish—”

“This isn’t a permanent goodbye,” he says softly, kissing the back of my head. “Really, it’s become even more difficult to willingly leave, knowing my feelings are returned. But even if I am not there to hold you, I swear upon my oath to Aton Cimeni that I will love you no matter where I am. Half a millimeter or half a world away, my feelings will hold. This I swear. My word is yours.”

“…Did you just make an oath on another oath?”

“Is the significance of that oath not enough for you?”

“...”

“You’re not one to be easily romanced, are you?”

“What can I say, trust problems,” I shrug. “Especially since someone _did_ stab me in the back not that long ago.”

An audible wince. “Ah. Well, if you demand it, I will happily proffer another apology for your peace of mind.”

“H-How the hell are you able to say that with a straight tone?”

“Because I mean to follow through with it.”

I shiver as he kisses my neck, and not just because we’re just lying in a meadow in the middle of the night, either. Having his body so close against mine, like a cuddle-sized hot water bottle filled with sunshine, makes that argument obsolete.

“Mirui.”

I jump, not having expected my name whispered into my ears. “Huh?”

“If I said that I love you, what does that mean to you?”

“Uh… I guess… that you don’t mind screwing me?”

“...That was a badly timed question, wasn’t it?”

“Well, what did you expect, so soon after… after _that_?”

He laughs warmly, our bodies vibrating with the sound. “To me,” he says, “love is my desire to see you happy, Mirui. Even if at my own expense. If I could spend every hour with you… If I could live with you, walk with you, worry with you and rejoice with you, make love to you every day until the world itself comes to an end, it would be… I would feel blessed beyond measure. It would make me the happiest man in Erinn, I’m sure.”

“But there are many forces out there wishing me harm - maybe even wishing you harm as well - and they grow stronger every day. A handful of Fomors was all it took to breach Avalon, and I was powerless as commander to do any more than detain them for a while. Even if we did get the better of them afterwards, I know my limits now, having lost by your hand. I know they don’t go far enough. Even if it is such that you are easily strong enough for the both of us, I…”

His hands, folded over my chest, clench each other tightly. “I can’t rest easy, even at your side, knowing of the blades that would be pointed in your direction.”

“Talvish…”

“I must beg for your forgiveness, Mirui. It may be more fair to apologize for falling in love with you, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was indulgent, thinking your stoicness would prevent this ending. That you would have fallen for a troublesome existence as mine, when there are so many others who could give you more stability, more safety, more of their presence… I could hardly believe it still. Is it a curse or a blessing that I dared reach for you? That you leapt for me as I tried to flee your side?”

“…Probably more of a curse if you put it that way,” I admit. “But I’m not going to forgive you for it.”

“I see…”

“I mean, why should I? There’s nothing to forgive.”

A moment of silence, then: “That was surprisingly romantic of you.”

“I guess your sweet-talking is starting to rub off on me,” I say with a half-smile. 

“If I do more, would you respond in kind?”

“Er, I think I’ve made enough embarrassing responses today to last the next few millennia.”

“Intimacy is embarrassing by nature, is it not?”

“S-Shut up,” I mutter. “I still can’t believe I said all that…”

“If it makes you feel better, I should confess that I probably would have asked for the same things of you… though, admittedly, _after_ making sure our feelings were mutual.”

“Wh—? Hey, you tried to run away from me! What do you mean, you _would_ have?”

“All right, _if_ I had the strength to have confessed first, I would have.” 

I blush as he cuddles me, wishing my shirt was long enough that I could hide my face in it. “That wasn’t me being strong, that was me being desperate and stupid,” I mumble.

“And yet how easily you had me wrapped around your finger. Or I suppose, to be more accurate, around your pe—”

“Talvish, if you dare finish that sentence I’m never going to see you the same way ever again.”

“You’re somewhat late for that, then.”

The distraction of banter was enough to make me forget what we were just doing and how we’d gone to rest from it. Which is my excuse for why it takes me off-guard when he suddenly reaches over and grabs my unsuspecting stiffie.

I’d hardly a moment to realize before - “?!” - his fingers _sweep_ my skin, and unworded noises escape me. A gasp, and then another, and another, as he curls up tighter around me and his hips dig deeply up against mine. 

“Did you ever… imagine us doing this sort of thing?”

Is he teasing? He’s definitely teasing, right? Asking me this sort of thing as I’m shamelessly grinding into his hips, my shaft stiffening in his fingers… 

“M-More than I’d like to admit,” I eventually pant.

“Is it better or worse than you thought it’d be like?”

“...The grass was unexpected.”

“As is how long we’ve been at this. Though I’m not complaining.” 

I shiver as he pulls away, the dampness of sweat and other fluids suddenly cold enough to feel chilly. And then not so much, as he strips the rest of his clothes off in front of me.

I instinctively stopper my nose, seeing his naked body. “Wh—?!”

“I wish I had time to prepare something better,” he says, laying them down beside me. “Next time, I’ll remember to keep us indoors.”

The ease with which he picks me up and sets me down in his lap is embarrassing. But at the same time it’s reassuring as I feel that strength, so much greater than mine, in every move he makes. The way his arms support me as he’s kissing me softly. The brush of his calloused hands under my shirt. The muscles on his back as they twist beneath my hands, making his soft wings flutter and twitch. 

“Mm…”

_?_

“M-Mirui… not…”

“Huh?”

I get a feeling I know as he groans softly, his feathers restlessly shifting in my fingers. “Not… not so hard…” 

“Stop making out with me and I won’t be so hard,” I snicker, sticking my tongue out at him.

“That’s not what I— _ah_!”

I’d rubbed him where the wings meet his back, and then the world flips, gravity and a pair of strong arms forces me down, and I find myself realizing how much his coat smells of him as he shoves me onto it. I don’t think much more as he’s suddenly sitting on me, leaning on me with his elbows close to my sides and his hands in my hair, his kisses addling what’s left to care about anything but the weight of his body on mine. 

“They’re,” he huffs, pinning me down, “sensitive when conserved.”

My thinking is dulled by how hard he is as he’s rubbing against me, and yet how soft his lips are on my skin. “Can I,” I mutter absentmindedly, “ _mm_ , tease them… some more then?”

Another kiss, and the pressure of his forehead against mine. “Let me pleasure you first, my dear.”

“...Don’t call me that.”

“Hm?”

Despite all the feel-good coursing through my veins, I stare at him balefully as I say: “Nobody says ‘my dear’ nowadays unless it’s to make fun of them.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. Haven’t you heard Llywelyn use it like that?”

“Not personally.”

“I sure hope not personally.”

He grins amusedly. “Hmm… then, ‘honey bear’?”

“By the gods, no,” I shiver. “And don’t you dare suggest just ‘honey’, either.”

“You’re strangely fussy about this.”

“Words are important. Names are important.”

“Even if your name was… hm, Milladillo Appleworm, I would have fallen for you all the same,” he says, planting a kiss on my blush-red nose. 

“Sure thing, _Talvy bear_.”

Talvish winces. “Alright, point taken.”

I peck him back on the nose anyway. “But… can we think about this later, when we’re not… already occupied?” I sigh, reaching up towards his back.

He gets to me first, though. My hands falter as he moves away, just to return with my knees on his shoulders and a sudden stress on my lower back. Surprised fingers scrabble in grass as his cock finds my ass - this time sinking into me with very little resistance at all. Like this my eyes are filled with his face and there’s no looking away this time, just Talvish; only a rose-red, sweaty-faced Talvish as he shoves my hips up and he’s fucking me slowly, steadily… 

And to his sway, a soft sound of inhalation and exhalation; cycling, interspersed with moans. In between utterances I hear my name - but fuzzily, as if off in the distance. The edges of my senses increasingly falter and I’m not… I’m not thinking right, but I still find that funny, sort of? We… He’s not going that hard and I’m starting to lose it already? Just by this pressure and friction, this warmth and movement; a dampness and, and heat as his hands are clutching my thighs, his quickening breath t-tickling my chest, his lips forming the same name again and again and I’m… I’m… 

So much going on and so… so much to feel.

So many feelings, simply from… from just… 

“Mirui.”

—Suddenly, a moment of clarity. 

Talvish’s cheek, brushed up against my cheek. Talvish’s chin, dripping sweat on my shoulders.

Talvish’s voice, whispering directly into my ear.

“My beloved.” 

I don’t even try to resist, I know it’s futile. As pointless as facing down a hurricane, a tidal wave, a raging wildfire - forces of nature out of my control. I was doomed the moment he called me that and I could see it, I could sense it, light and tears and elation, joy and resonation; full beyond imagining and it’s just too much, too much, too much, too—!

And,

in quick 

succession: noises, 

stickiness, pressure, sweat. A soda-like fizziness, a gentle hand. Bone and muscle tensing. Utterances of pleasure. Weariness. Relief.

Ah, and warmth. So warm, on my skin and in my center, but also deep beneath them. A pure comfort fitting itself into my soul like how our fingers fold perfectly into the other’s, like a last puzzle piece to make the picture whole. The feel of his knuckles against mine is the last sensation to fade as my body finally has enough of today, and I’m completely fine with that.

I could even die here, and be happy.

...Aha, don’t worry, I won’t.

After all, now… now I have someone to live for.

\--- 

\--

-

The first realization I have the next morning is of my sheets and how comfortable they are.

Sunlight makes my vision spotty as I wake up in my own bed, swaddled in fleece and flannel pajamas. Fluffy and warm, their touch doesn’t gladden me at all as I blindly reach around the little mattress, my fingers meeting nothing but more pillows and several feet of down comforter. No warm body, no reassuring hand, no head of noodle-colored hair. Just me in my bedroom, alone in my twin-sized bed.

...With a serious case of morning wood.

I lie there dumbly. Feel very dumbly. 

And bury my face in my hands, blushing hard.

“Ugggggghhhhhhhh.”

Too good to be true? Too good to be true.

“I should’ve pinched myself,” I groan, honestly upset. I consider sleeping a little more, to try and get back to that dream even for just another hour or so. But with my body calling for the bathroom I have no choice but to roll out of bed.

And then: “Ack!”

The soreness was delayed for a few seconds, having let me get halfway off my mattress before it decided to sink into my muscles with a vengeance. I land heavily on my rug, which in spite of its fluffy nature, causes my hips to ache as badly as an old man’s for some reason. My abdomen, too, and my arms, my legs.

Yesterday… What was I doing yesterday, I wonder to myself as I struggle to move without threatening pain somewhere. I’d… um, I think I went to Avalon. Yes, for sure, and saw Yggdrasil, and got attacked… by some scythe lady, and a dragon, and the three idiot Prophets, and— ow-ow-owww… 

Despite this sudden desire for painkillers, the small clatter! doesn’t escape my notice. My ears perk up; it sounded… well, if I have to recall something, it sounded like a bean falling off my kitchen counter - something small and surfaced and hard, clattering off in the direction of its sound before being stopped by the corner and a pile of books. And stiff or not, of course I’m curiously shoving the volumes aside, expecting a button or something else randomly kicked there by my flailing about.  
Amongst the tiny platoons of dust bunnies, it is a glint on the hardwood, a flash of scarlet in dappled sun.

Shard-like, smooth-surfaced, glowing from within.

A small, red gem.

The world stops as I stare at it disbelievingly, as if all the oxygen was taken out of my breath.

I’d… I’d know it anywhere.

I’m sure I gave it back to him… and yet… 

Its surface is warm as I pick it up. Tucking it between thumb and forefinger, I flop back over next to my window, letting the sun stream in from the window and setting its edges ablaze. 

A promise.

And beyond it, somewhere in the clear blue sky, he is—

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha ha... ahh, I read too much hentai...


End file.
